Where Loyalties Lie
by RoyalBlackheart
Summary: Blackout's on routine duty on Cybertron (Pre-movie) when he's called to battle. Random story for descriptive purposes; no real plot.


**You can find this story upon my deviantart here: royblackheart. deviantart art/Where-Loyalties-Lie-32495699876  
**

**Fandom:** Transformers Movieverse

**Rating:** T

**Pairings:** None

**Warning(s):** Violence

**Status:** Complete, One-shot

**Word Count:** 1,581

**Summary:** Blackout's on routine duty on Cybertron (Pre-movie) when he's called to battle. Random story for descriptive purposes; no real plot.

**Disclaimer:** I'm obviously not one of the awesome creators of Transformers and in no way own anything. Hasbro and Takara do. :'c Boo.

* * *

The scene below was looking grim even as the Flyer arrived to look down below. Already what remained of the Decepticons was down to a minimal of, possibly, 1 'Con per fifteen Autobots easily. They had dispatched an emergency call, and the good Lord had sought to send his very best on the case.

Of course, this didn't leave Blackout; the most loyal Hound of Megatron to doubt his master. Megatron was sure to arrive after more grueling business. _Decepticon Hound._ A notably feared title among both Decepticons and Autobots alike, but also one that held a tinge of great distaste. Though eagerly did the inky and largest of them follow behind Megatron without question, it came with snide remarks and comments that grated his gears terribly.

Blackout's alternative form swooped down suddenly upon Cybertron like a black shadow of a raven; symbolizing the unholy vengeance to come. Autobots went to scatter as he landed, mid-transforming just before hiding the ground. The thunderous sound of the Hound's pedes soon stomping against the metal surface of Cybertron's surface; carrying like the utmost entertaining screams of fear through vocalizers belonging to the Autobot rebels.

Six pair of blades were then brandished from the largest mech on the battlefield well; all combined into a fixed unit to rapidly spin like a cyclone of the strongest metal alloys. They punctured into the nearest Autobots, Energon spilling and parts falling. Wires crackled into the air like miniature fireworks of static.

Retracting and flexing out his servo; each sweep of the spinning swords chopped and severed into various body parts. Shots of lower calibers pining off of his armor; leaving indentations. Those of high rounds or plasma-grade in some form searing through Blackout's armor like acid and salty-rust.

Opening a chamber on his chassis; plasma shots fired out at the rows of Autobots. It didn't even matter if Decepticons were in the way now; not that the Decepticon Hound saw any. The free servo he had used to punch and shove transforming; metal peeling back and around to reveal his cannon. Their shots soon ringing in the air with a deafening roar while blasting through limbs and helms; the ethereal pieces of mechanics and parts never seen too many optics before the war were now flying in shattered, molten-hot pieces. Chopping into the nearest Autobot; Blackout delighted himself inwardly with the torturous cries of panic and agony as another went down. Feeling his backside warmed with sudden firepower; he turned into a hard swing and crashed his blades into a mech's side. It went halfway through before jamming in mid-spin, nearly wrenching the Hound with it. Growling, his servo lurched upward and the blades sliced cleanly and quickly skyward; completely cutting the individual in half from waist-sector to helm. He crashed down, offlined and with a goopy, shimmering substance in the middle of his chassis; his former Spark.

Another 'Bot clashed with the slightly Energon bleeding Decepticon with a furious roar. Most of the mess that was on Blackout was not his own gore, but that of his victims. He eagerly took on the challenging mech; his stature nearly half of the Decepticons. He had thought clever of his size; thinking that a big burley 'Con would be too stupid to think of smaller opponent tactics.

How wrong he was. As the Autobot went to dive between his legs, Blackout brought up his foot and slammed it down upon the sliding mech's leg. He lurched forward by momentum and nearly toppled the behemoth Blackout, but he stumbled and grunted, regaining balance. He stepped forward into the fighting once more, only hearing the satisfying deep crunch of the mech's processor as he stepped forward and directly upon his helm.

Using the carcass of his fatalities against his foes, the Decepticon Hound kicked or blew their bodies with the sheer strength and sweeping motion of his blades into individuals. Startled and blinded with something large covering them, he would simply come up to gut survivors alive with his blades. Those who did not run, that is. Those beginning to flee, hoping to see another cycle were mowed down by Blackout's guns; fire-like generations spewing out and covering everyone in heavy dousing's of energy waves.

Whirring with Cybertronian speech of some curses and self-righteous pride of his own to himself, Blackout spun to scan for further survivors, coming face to face with a mech. The Autobot flung himself at him in a terribly offensive gesture, obviously having absolutely no real combat experience. Surely he couldn't have, the Weapons Specialist and Fourth-in-Command thought, if he merely threw himself at a much larger and formidable opponent.

Metal hissing, Blackout transformed his cannon-arm back into his servo's and flexed them mutely while the Autobot tried clawing into his armor. A shame, he would have to take care of all those _filthy_ marks later. The Hound reaching up, his blunt digits digging into the soft wiring and protoform-like covering around the Autobot's throat. Blackout twisted and tightened his hold dangerously and was thoroughly pleased to the very core of his Spark to hear the sharp, painful intake of the Autobot.

The digits of the much smaller 'bot continued to dig grooves and slivers from his shoulders and chassis as he whimpered pathetically and in pain. Pricking along sensitive joint-areas along his arms while he was raised higher and higher; a testimony to any on watchers there may still be among them.

"R-Release me traitor," hissed the Autobot in a wheezing sound through his vocoder.

Blackout's crimson optics looked cold and morbidly upon the Caribbean blue of the Autobot's. He would not smirk; would not show any of his inner joy at seeing the squirming, weak form of the Autobot struggle. It was always a delight; a macabre scene of his own doing to unworthy insects such as this.

"No," Blackout responded in a rumbling, rarely-heard deep baritone voice. The Autobot's optics went bright as the Hound crushed his digits deeply into the cavities of his neck wires; hearing the symphony of wires snapping and crackling as thin metal pieces bent and broke under pressure.

He loved to hear them die. _Slowly and painfully_ whenever possible.

Delightful as allowing feelings of hate and rage to simmer inside; killing and revenge were always the greatest task to accomplish among the Decepticons. It was not like Blackout himself kept score; he was always scouting out missions and destroying everything in his path. But by Primus and Unicron, the exhilarating feeling and the knowing how much Megatron's approval rang at hearing of his Hound's accomplishments thoroughly pleased himself. A rare pride knowing that because of him, the Decepticon's advanced forward so fluidly these days.

With a final note, Blackout used his full pressure suddenly of his servo into the weak structure of the Autobot mech's neck. His head fell limp and dangled from a few spare wires, which collapsed and ripped apart as the Hound threw him off to the side with the rest of the Autobot scrap that lay offlined at his pedes. Nothing was, or could ever be, more appeasing than _this._

But like a storm of angry Insecticons, Autobots suddenly came barreling from their hiding places at the Hound. Deranged from the senseless and ease of which he dispatched of someone who had pleaded for his onlinement. Like he had never stopped fighting for even a moment in the first place, Blackout threw himself into the frenzy; cutting down Autobots once again left and right without mercy. It came to his audio's as he fought; the sound of a bellowing pair of loud thrusters. He could recognize those thrusters most anywhere. Megatron was flying overhead like a dark fallen Prime-angel and coming in to swoop for a landing. Soon joining Blackout, side by side in combat against the remaining Autobot's that defended themselves to the last breath with bravery.

For Megatron's lengthy, thick blade would clash and crash around just as Blackout's multiple blades would. The two gladiators of Kaon pressed back to back like brothers almost while taking on the enemy with an show of equal vigor and strength. Together, the pairing was invincible, and soon there really was nothing left but a barren wasteland of grotesquely warped metal upon Cybertron's stunning surface, and ruined Energon.

Blackout could respect that; but their faction choice merely left him too disgusted to care. He would, perhaps, have shown a last moment of pity upon them had it not been for Megatron's sudden red glassy optics upon him; certainly full of a silent pride and acknowledgement of power. With that look, it was hard to so much as glance at the worthless bodies of metal and feel a shred of sympathy for their demise; nor take the moment to bow his helm in a sort of recognition of a final fight lost that to them that he would carry with honor but with a quiet shred of liability.

"Let us go, Blackout," Megatron stated simply; one of little words unless directing with a council of Decepticons.

Blackout deeply lowered into a bow before his master, whose optics gleamed approvingly. "As you wish, master."

While the Hound righted himself, the Lord of the Decepticons transformed into his alternate mode and shot up into the heavens of Cybertron. Blackout only looked back blankly at the dead left behind before transforming as well. His humongous and slower flyer mode following suit as he was commanded; a silent but ever-faithful follower.


End file.
